You’re lost. All you do is crawl and beg for your miserable pathetic life. You are nothing. You are not even like us. You’re a whore. A slut. A gaping hole of nothingness.
Perspective: Besputha Tomkova
I am awakened by the clutter of the sheets. Someone is sitting on the side of my bed.
- Good you’re awake, little bitchy, - whispers the person. Through the passing of a dream, I realize it’s my father.
He leans to me, the stench of alcohol and cigarettes and cavities from his mouth: "Do you want to feel good?" Still in a haze from the dream, I am at a loss on how to respond him: "Daddy?"
- Shhh… - his lips are forced against mine. His tongue searches its way into my mouth, pouring in the sickening stench as it finds its way. I start to cough from the poisonous breath and push him away. Father puts a finger to his lips, smiling, then covers my mouth with his hand:
- Be sure not to scream from pleasure, little bitchy, - he whispers as if whistling a merry tune, while unbuttoning the shirt on me. He licks my chest, with his beard scratching against my skin unpleasantly. I try to squirm, but his hand is holding me firm, sending paralysis all over my body. He sticks his tongue in my bellybutton, moving there as a worm. When he is done, a chill is sent over my body from the remains of his spit, giving me goose bumps.
- Now for the best part, little bitchy - father slithers. He takes my pants and panties by their elastics and pulls them off. I try to cross my legs in embarrassment.
- Oh… How cute: you’re embarrassed, bitchy. No reason to: not like I have not seen everything before.
He slides his hand along my legs, spreading them gently, but firmly. I start to feel feverish, as if burning in fire. His beard scratches the inner side of my thighs. I feel something leaking.
- You’re getting wet, bitchy. How marvelous.
His fingers are touching me down below, I feel them getting sticky. I feel one of them… Pushing against me. Pushing inside me. A flash of pain from down below makes me bend my spine in agony, tears fill my eyes, making everything blurry. I try to bite his hand, but in response, he just pushes me further into the pillow. I think I wet the bed.
Father’s fingers are moving inside me, scratching my innards, as if he is trying to get something out. Not getting what he desires, he pulls the fingers back out and puts them into his mouth, happiness filling his face. I feel tingling inside me, when I hear him taking off the belt.
His face is over me again, smile upon it, as if he is in bliss. I feel something touching my nether region. Something big and hot. It is trying to get inside me…
I’m choking on a scream of agony being pushed back into my throat, when it finds its way in and I bite fathers fingers he put into my mouth. I’m blacking out from the pain, I am becoming numb, vision blurs with new lakes of tears. Why? Why is daddy hurting me so much? Mommy? Help me! Please!
On the brink of my sanity, I hear her come in. She stays there in silent shock, as father keeps leaning closer, and then pulling back. Closer… Then back. Closer and back again. Mother takes him by shoulders, trying to pull him back, but he just throws her away with a wave of a hand. Sudden rage lights up his previously blissful face and his movements become faster. Closer… Back. Closer… Back…
I feel my belly bulging, being filled by something, but I am already fazed, dazed and catatonic.
I wake up in the morning in sheets hard from dried out sticky fluids. There seems to be some blood on them as well. I feel extremely exhausted and thin. And cold, since only an unbuttoned shirt is on me. I try to stand up, but my knees give in under the pain stretching its grip from under my belly. In slow-motion moves I am finally able to get to the bathroom, where I wash my face, brush my teeth… And pee, with burning sensations almost bringing me to tears. As a ghost, I dress-up and get into the kitchen.
It’s like nothing happened. Father is reading a newspaper, while eating pelmeni and drinking coffee. Mother is sitting on the other side of the table with only one thing different in her – black eye. I sit at the table silently closer to her, than to father and eat.
When father is leaving, I overhear him:
- Around noon a friend of mine will come here with some money. You will take that money and get him and Besputha in the room. Alone.
- But, - my mother tries to argue.
- You will do as I say, - he stops her, glaring angrily at her.
A man does come. Fat, plump, oily. Mother is weary around him, but when he gives her the money, it is if she gets replaced by someone else. She starts smiling, courteously takes his coat, and offers him a drink and snacks, which he refuses. She gets me and the man into my room and then closes the door, leaving us alone.
He pulls away the dirty sheets with disgust on his face, but when he looks at me the disgust spreads out into a smile.
- Sit, girl, - he points to the bed, and I slowly do. – Such a beautiful flower you are…
He puts his hand on my thigh. I try to back off, but he forces his nails in me: "Where are you going? I just want to play with you".
- Mommy!
Mother opens the door and asks me angrily, as if irritated:
- What do you want?
- I do not want to be here with this man. I’m scared.
- I do not want a lot of things, too, but I live through them somehow. Now be a dear and let the nice man do what he wants.
She closes the door, and the man gets closer to me. I try to get out of his grip, but that only angers him, and he hits me. I black out for a moment, and when I open my eyes, my t-shirt is off, my pantyhose and panties are ripped. I start kicking, but he just holds my legs down and hits my belly with his elbow, so that I would calm down from coughing, trying to catch my breath.
And then the same sensation as last night – something big and hot sticking my nether region. Sliding left, right… Slowly, playfully, as if trying to tickle. And then the same flash of pain. This time, there is no hand to hold me, and I scream, scream as loud as I can, bending under the pain ripping my belly. I cry, I scratch him, but it is all so futile. My throat becomes hoarse, I can barely whisper, my hands become numb with pain and just fall on the bed as dry firewood.
Closer… Back…
Closer… Back…
Fat, thin, ugly, not so ugly… Bald, with good hair, with dirty hair. Acne, scars, scabs… Hundreds, thousands of faces, some coming more frequently than the others, some coming just once. Myriad of faces turning into a blur. I no longer feel pain from their dicks getting in me. All I have to do is just lie there and that is enough for them. Two years already. Two long years, mudded into a blur of thrusting. I am almost seven now. I know what this is. I know this is bad. But there is nothing I can do. I’m so tired all the time, I barely eat, because I barely get anything to eat.
Every day at least one of them comes to fuck me. Some speak to me, like how beautiful I am, how they like my blond hair and green eyes. Some just get it over with. Some try to get it anal, but father forbade that under fear of cutting them off from the drug, that I became to them. But he allowed oral, so now and then a dick gets stuffed into my mouth. I sometimes have stray thoughts of trying to chew them off, but any disobedience may be answered by violence either from client or mother. Father does not beat me. He uses me, sometimes roughly, but never beats me.
They never take me out into the world. I am practically a prisoner of my own room. I pee and shit in a bucket, food is brought in. I only take shower outside my room and that’s it. All other time I am locked in. I am worse than a pet to them. I only spread my legs. With some books about sexual education, they throw in sometimes, hoping I will get better at this stuff. I read them to spare the time, but they all seem nonsensical to me. They all speak about some kind of trust between partners, openness. I do not get what they mean.
One of the clients drops a wallet and does not notice it. I snatch it as soon as he leaves, before mother notices it herself. It has some cards, cash, a photo of a boy (his son?) and a small knife. I smile. They never give me pointy stuff even when I am supposed to eat. I can get a spoon, but that’s the maximum they can give me.
There is a downtime. I am staring at the knife, thinking how tired I am of all this. How I want this all to end. I point the knife at my stomach. I feel the cold of a blade, tightening my skin, where I am pinching it.
Footsteps interrupt me. I hide the knife behind my back as father walks in:
- Time to get my dessert, bitchy, - he says, while getting his belt off. I undress obediently, hiding the knife under the sheets.
Closer… Back…
A thought hits me, while he is humping: "What if I just kill him?" It grows on me. Intensifies. I see red now, not teary. I find the knife and stab him in the back. He makes a strange face but continues humping. I stab again. And again. And again: "Is he that dumb, that he does not feel it?"
Finally, he stops. I push his body over, his dick coming out with a thumping sound, that makes me want to puke. I lie there, trying to comprehend, what I just did, but my mind feels empty, as some client’s balls.
Someone knocks. Mother. She sees father on the floor and runs to him, shakes him, screams, begging him to wake up. She turns to me with tears of fury in her eyes. She lunges at me… And right onto the knife that I put out in my stretched arms. It passes right though her throat, half the handle getting in as well. She coughs blood, chocking on it, trying to get the knife out, but instead getting it even deeper. Father’s blood on me is now joined by mother’s and his body is lying under hers.
I lie there smiling and crying from relief, not bothered the blood. Not bothered by the stench that comes in a few hours. Stench of their bodies and my own urine, since I feel so thin, I can’t even get up. Doorbells are ignored as well.
But then the door is knocked away by authorities: neighbors complained about the smell. They take me in. Infinite psyche evals. Pointless, since I barely talk to all those pricks. They do not actually care. All they want is to simply finish their job and get home, tell their wives how the world is fucked up and then fuck them to fill their void.
I am sent to an orphanage and to school beside. I’m being bullied constantly. They trip me, call me slut and whore. Some boys even tried to get it on, but a teacher spotted them. One of the counselors is constantly preaching about how I need to confess my sins to God, so that I will be forgiven by him.
What sins? What did I do wrong? It was not me raping, it was me who got raped! It was me who was being sold as a thing, as a possession. It was me who was turned into an expensive fucktoy. Or should I ask forgiveness for killing those shitheads? They stole my life, they stole my light, turned me into an aimless shallow shadow! Why the fuck should I ask forgiveness for killing such shitty parents? If I had a chance, I’d kill them over and over and over and over and over again!
I’m starting to snap at people. They do not want to understand me. They do not try to understand me. They see me not as a victim, a prey, but as a victimizer. Some boys gang-up on me, beat me, and even try to rape me, the "slut" I am, but another counselor intervenes. He offers me help. For a price.
It’s the only thing I can do: lie down and bear the thumping, bear the dry cum on and in me, - so I agree. He fucks me twice a week, and no one touches me at school. No one is bothered by me, no one talks to me. I am invisible, a shadow. He fucks me up till I am 18 and they legally have to sign me out of the orphanage and kick me out on the streets. The counselor does not want me to waste my talent, he helped to improve and thus hooks me up with a pimp.
I do not care much. All I want is to find someone who will understand me. Accept me. Accept me for the shadow I am and not the whore the make me be. But this will never happen, so…
Whatever…
For fucks sake, I am a grown-up woman, I want to stop remembering all this every time I am fucked by a man. I want to stop wanting to kill every man that screws me. But all I can do now is… Take a shower. How pitiful is that?
